


You're All I Taste

by mydickisthealpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dereka Hale, F/F, Fem!Stiles - Freeform, Female Derek Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, Pink Undies Sunday, Romance, fem!Derek, fem!sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydickisthealpha/pseuds/mydickisthealpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mmm, knew you’d look good in these,” Stiles’ voice dips low as she presses an open mouthed kiss against the sensitive swell of Dereka’s ass cheek, dragging her lips closed and pulling away. Her hair tickles the side of Dereka’s thigh as she moves to the other cheek, trailing her parted lips across the expanse of flesh beneath her. Goose bumps rise immediately behind the trail, and Dereka inhales a shiver as a thrill dips low in her belly, curling there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're All I Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second time I've written female sex. I have no idea what I'm doing. For Pink Undies Sunday, though. Posted [here](http://shercocklocked.tumblr.com/post/50330905559) as well.

“Mmm, knew you’d look good in these,” Stiles’ voice dips low as she presses an open mouthed kiss against the sensitive swell of Dereka’s ass cheek, dragging her lips closed and pulling away. Her hair tickles the side of Dereka’s thigh as she moves to the other cheek, trailing her parted lips across the expanse of flesh beneath her. Goose bumps rise immediately behind the trail, and Dereka inhales a shiver as a thrill dips low in her belly, curling there.

Stiles’ long fingers are a soft caress on her other thigh, massaging slowly and rubbing gently; sometimes skittering close to her pussy, brushing against the pink of her panties. Dereka exhales at the teasing touch, but Stiles doesn’t give her anything else. Just subtle grazes that aren’t enough, recklessly maddening and exactly what Dereka needs. 

Stiles can string her along, bring her up high and leave her there. She drags it all out for her, lets her forget the name of the town and the bitter taste of burnt flesh in her mouth. She does it slow and so good, and Dereka often wonders how she ever could have thought she was in love with Kate. When here is Stiles, open and sarcastic, and all the things Dereka needs and never wanted, but always dreamed of anyway. 

“You’re beautiful in anything,” Stiles continues, peppering kisses up the column of her spine, tracing her triskelion tattoo with nimble fingers. Her blunt, human nails scratch lightly as she does this, and Dereka leans into the contact. Stiles moves back down, fingers the panties thoughtfully, presses a soft kiss to the back crease of her thigh. “You’re beautiful without anything, too, though, in case you thought I was being biased.”

“Stiles,” Dereka breathes, a growl making it’s way to the end of the noise. She’s not angry or frustrated, really, just needs to make sound, something to confirm that she’s still here. 

“Dereka,” She says cheekily, eyes twinkling with the best kind of mischief, and an understanding that knocks the breath right from Dereka’s lungs. She closes her eyes, flexes her fingers, curling them into the sheets. 

Stiles says a lot, chatters endlessly when she catches interest in something, rambles when she’s nervous— but here, when it’s just them, she says so much in the way she touches, in the gleam in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips, and the tone of her voice. Normally, Stiles is awkward and sharp in all the wrong places, but here… Here she is soft and warm, graceful, and calculating in a way Lydia will never be able to match, no matter how smart the girl is. 

Dereka can feel the warmth and heaviness of Stiles’ breasts dragging along her skin, feels the pertness of her hardened nipples grazing her ribs as she moves up the bed. She pushes Dereka lightly, and Dereka falls easily onto her back, her dark hair fanning out around her head like a dark halo. Stiles grabs her own long hair, twists it a little and throws it over one shoulder so she can kiss the space between Dereka’s breasts. Her tongue maps a misshapen pattern to her nipple, laves the sensitive bud in circles, her entire mouth sucking at it, and then she barely touches it with the tip. 

Dereka arches up, silently begging for her to come back. But Stiles splays her hand just below her breasts, pushes her back down to the bed, all the way down and she’s dizzy from the drop. 

Stiles moves away, and comes back just as quickly, slides her hands down Dereka’s legs and urges them apart. She settles between her thighs like she belongs there, brown eyes darkened, but shining in the lightness of the room. Her hair frames one side of her fair, a piece of it stuck to her lips and she’s gorgeous and so dangerous. 

She’s dangerous in all the ways Kate was not, in every way that Laura had been, but there’s a threat there neither of them had posed. Stiles can utterly ruin her. 

Kate had ruined her life. She had taken away everything Dereka had ever loved and ripped her into so many pieces, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to find them all. Laura had broken her heart when she left, when she didn’t answer her phone—

When she didn’t come back. 

Through it all, Dereka’s determination to move on and survive— it’s always been constant, something she can depend on. Her wolf is strong, it wants to live. She wants to live. 

Stiles can… Stiles can take away her want to live. She’s injected herself into Dereka’s veins, mixed into the bloodstream so that Dereka needs her in her life to sustain it. There was everything before Stiles, one thing after Kate, and nothing after Laura—

Stiles had changed that in every way possible. 

“You’re thinking too hard, sadwolf,” Stiles comments, arms braced on either side of Dereka’s hips. 

“I,” she starts, but she doesn’t know what to say. 

“You don’t have to explain,” she says, and her heartbeat remains calm and blemish free.

Dereka rises up to bite into her mouth, opening her lips with her own, meshing their tongues together as they breathe through their nostrils. Everything is slick and heated, and she falls back, pulling Stiles with her, holding onto her shoulders and her back. Her hands dip into the curve of Stiles’ spine, reach down to squeeze her ass and then drag back up and she rolls her hips, searching for a firmer surface. 

Stiles’ hand snakes between them as she bites at Dereka’s neck (and God, does she even know what that does to her?), teases at the hem of the panties until she ducks her hand underneath, fingers finding her already wet, always so wet for Stiles. Stiles grins against her mouth, but they don’t kiss, just stay close, sharing breath. Her sinful fingers stroke her gently, just tantalizing her. 

She shifts free to hook her fingers around the waistband of the panties, black lace scratchy. Dereka lifts her hips, heels pressed into the bed until Stiles pulls them off, throwing them away from the bed. She comes back up, flattens her hands against Dereka’s nipples and then cups her breasts, massaging them and then framing her ribs with her hands. 

She kisses down her stomach, down a thigh, goes to the other one to do the same, taking her time until she’s hovering, warm breath puffing against Dereka’s pussy, and their eyes meet. 

Stiles is asking permission. She always does.

Dereka always says yes. 

Stiles doesn’t go straight for it, she kisses the side of her pussy lips, pulls them into her mouth and works at them. Dereka closes her eyes, pushes her head back into the pillow, and cants her hips up, but Stiles has wrapped an arm around her thighs and keeps her where she wants her.

Stop teasing, I need it, Dereka wants to say. She doesn’t, just stares down at Stiles as she dips her head down.

Stiles’ lips are everywhere— the crease of her leg, the lips of her vagina. She kisses them tenderly, but doesn’t touch her clit, not yet. She brings a long-fingered hand to her mouth, sucking the digits, makes eye contact, and smiles when she sees red eyes. 

The feeling of her fingers parting the moist folds of her most intimate parts brings Dereka’s blood to a boil. She says Stiles’ name, and Stiles answers with a long, brilliant swipe of her tongue from the bottom of her pussy to the clit, flicking momentarily before pulling back. She keeps her tongue soft, knows exactly the type of pressure Dereka loves, and delivers, licking her from top to bottom, slowly. 

Her lips purse against her clit, and she makes a broken noise as she inhales through her nose, shaping her supple lips just so. Dereka lets out a long, low moan of her own, brings her hand up to card through Stiles’ hair, pushing it to the side. Stiles keeps her mouth parted as she kisses the entrance of her vagina, tastes Dereka, whose thighs tighten involuntarily. Dereka brings one hand up to touch her own breast, one hand still holding Stiles’ hair. 

“You taste so good,” Stiles’ murmurs against her clit, and Dereka moans, rolling her hips. Stiles licks her entrance again, closes her mouth against it and thrusts her tongue inside, pressing in deeply, again and again. 

Dereka’s chest heaves and she drops her hands to the bed, pulling at the sheets, writhing. 

Stiles keeps making noises of pleasure, like it’s her goddamn privilege to eat Dereka out, like it’s all she ever wants to do. She dances her fingers around her clit, rubs and circles just right. 

“Stiles.”

Stiles gives her another long lick, and then begins tonguing her clit as her fingers tease her entrance. 

“Stiles, fuck.” 

“Mmm, yes,” Stiles answers lazily, and then sucks her clit between her lips. Dereka gasps out, clamping her thighs together, back arching. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, alternates between grasping the sheets and holding onto Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ fingers press into her as she sucks, slow and gentle. She’s taunting and she knows it, and she probably just enjoys analyzing every jagged moan and gasping breath Dereka makes. 

She picks up speed until she’s fucking into her, rocking her against her hand. Dereka can feel her legs trembling, can feel her stomach bottoming out, and something desperate possessing her limbs as Stiles crooks her fingers just the right way; like she knows all of Dereka, every intimate detail, inside and out.

“Oh fuck, Stiles, just—” and she does, and Dereka’s eyes roll back as she bows up, tensing and jerking and moaning Stiles’ name as she coaxes her pleasure out, until Dereka comes down and can’t take anymore, and she’s pushing Stiles’ shoulders. 

Stiles drags herself up Dereka’s body, kisses her so that Dereka can taste herself on their tongues. Her heart rates slows as they kiss languidly, and Stiles drops her head to Dereka’s shoulder, resting a hand over her heart. 

“What about you?”

“Later,” Stiles answers easily, pressing in closer. Dereka holds her, touching her lips to her forehead. “I love you.”

She says it so easily. There’s no hesitation, no blip to tell Dereka the lie in the words. The lie isn’ there. Stiles really loves her. Stiles can bring her up and unravel her, and tell her she loves her in seconds, and every moment of it is authentic. 

I love you, too, she wants to say. She wants to, so much, because she knows it to be true as well, but—

She doesn’t say anything. She can’t. 

Stiles doesn’t fault her for it, either. She just remains silent and smells achingly like home, and curls into her side. Stiles is strong in ways Dereka never will be. She faces down monsters on a daily basis, with nothing but wit and sarcasm as a shield, and a faith in the people she loves. 

She says I love you to everyone she truly loves.

One day Dereka will be able to say it, to return that love, when she can look at herself and not question why.


End file.
